Hell's Maw by James Axler Page B

The building was four stories high and stretched the length of a block, with tinted glass in the windows and a basementlevel housing the garage and firing range. The Pretors—the local equivalent of Magistrates—were based here, and they patrolled not only Zaragoza City but also the state beyond, covering an eighty-mile radius that took them well into the radiation-blighted lands to the south and east.
    Once inside, Grant was swiftly processed by a uniformed Pretor—his uniform consisting of flexible armor in black and red, the tailored jacket flaring at the bottom so that it created something approaching a skirt across the hips. The Pretor was armed with a boot knife and had a holster—currently empty—at his hip. Grant could see notches around the high neck of his uniform where a helmet would be secured while on patrol.
    After he had been processed—a simple procedure of taking holographs and prints—Grant was taken to a secure, white-walled interview room and left alone to wait. The room featured harsh lighting and contained a single table to which Grant’s right wrist was cuffed on a short chain, along with four chairs, two to either side of the table. Grant waited almost forty minutes until Corcel, the officer whom he had first met in the hotel ballroom, joined him. Corcel’s expression was unreadable as he greeted Grant, pulling a chair across to him before reversing it to sit on, his arms resting across its back.
    â€œYour name?” Corcel asked without preamble.
    â€œGrant.”
    â€œGrant…?”
    â€œJust Grant,” Grant confirmed. “Only name I ever needed.”
    â€œAnd you are an American, we have already established.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWhereabouts from?”
    â€œOriginally Cobaltville. More recently, all over, but still in that territory.”
    â€œI see. And your purpose for being here, in Zaragoza?”
    â€œVacation, with a friend.”
    Corcel checked something in the little A7 notebook he carried. “And that would be Shizuka, correct?”
    Grant nodded.
    â€œAnd what is your relationship to Shizuka?”
    â€œBoyfriend/girlfriend,” Grant said, eyes locking with Corcel’s, an unspoken challenge there. “Is this going anywhere, Pretor Corcel?”
    â€œJust establishing the facts. Do you know why you are here, Grant?”
    â€œI got an inkling,” Grant admitted, “but why don’t you explain how you see it.”
    â€œYou were discovered at the scene of a crime,” Pretor Corcel stated, “the ballroom in the Gran Retiro. You match the description of one of our suspects, which is why you’ve been brought in for questioning. In addition to this, you had certain items about your person that we might expect to find on the perpetrator.
    â€œDo you know what happened in the ballroom, Grant?”
    Grant tilted his head to show he was uncertain. “When Shizuka and I arrived the place was full of hanging bodies—I didn’t imagine that, right?”
    Corcel nodded. “Go on.”
    â€œI guess there were twenty-two, twenty-four people hanging from the ceiling in nooses,” Grant recalled. “Didn’t know why.”
    â€œSo you confirm you were at the scene prior to our engagement?” Corcel checked.
    â€œYeah. I saw someone I thought was suspicious—three people, all together—and so I followed them while trusting Shizuka to look after the—I dunno what you call them—victims, maybe?”
    Corcel looked intrigued. “When you say you saw someone you thought was suspicious, what happened then?”
    â€œI followed them through the service door and out into the back streets,” Grant said, “but they threw something at me—the sharp disc-thing you saw—and escaped before I could catch up to them.”
    â€œI see,” Corcel said, “and could you describe these people?”
    Grant nodded.